


We will survive

by wolfstareye



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: 5x13, Canon Compliant, Fix-It, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfstareye/pseuds/wolfstareye
Summary: You think you know what happened that day at Babylon? Well, you probably don't know shit.





	We will survive

It’s been so long I stopped thinking about this I can’t even decide what to wear.

Ok, who am I kidding, I almost never can decide what to wear. Not to a night like that. I can image their faces when they see me entering, returning like I was somewhere far away all these months. Maybe I was. But who cares, uh? Fuck them all. I’m back, we’re back, everything is awesome. So the black one it is. It makes me hot. Hotter. And _he_ likes it.

I’m shaving when Linds calls. She says Sonny Boy wants to hear me, but I know her better than this: she wants to wish me luck tonight. She’s proud of me. For months she had struggled with the thought that she might have caused The Big Separation, but now she seems to be in peace. “Only losers need luck” is my answer, but she knows me better too. We’re both half laughing when the call is off and I’m back to make me ready.

There’s no fashionable late tonight, because the party can only really starts with me. Mikey is on the gate, probably fearing I didn’t come. Bullshit, I’m here. See, there was a time when I thought the happy days were over,  basically because I man thought I was too old for this (another favor that bomb made me) and because I like to claim being a rational one and  there was no point in pretending things would come back to fine. But this was before. Before we stopped that _I-wil-not-be-the-one-who-calls_ game.  Before a weird talk that put some sense in me. Before I realize that the “no regrets” policy was not really on if I didn’t take all the chances. I can stand being called almost anything, you know, but coward is one of the exceptions.

So here I am, boys and girls: Brian fucking Kinney, always young, always beautiful, more alive than ever, ready to be the star of another Babylon’s reopening.

See what I was talking about? Look at their faces, thinking they know me. A third of the crowd doesn’t know me, but they will. By name, at least. I’m sorry (not sorry), but I’m not even trying to pretend I’m not one of the best things this _community_ ever saw.  Another third is just anxious for proving I’m right. They smile to me, try to catch my attention, wanna be my next trick. And I let them, part because I’m in a good mood for teaching, part because fucking to celebrating is way better than to coping. Finally, there is this group of people who think they know me, the real me, behind this so called mask. “Poor Kinney” one of them will say, “back to old patterns”. Someone says that I’m a charity case for my “brave friends” and “look how he is lonely since that blonde one dumped him again.”  Well, they can all eat my shit, because they don’t know me or my friends. And they sure don’t have a clue about _us_.

“Have fun for me”, he said when we talked this morning, so I do. I dance for all those months of grieving and fucking waste of time. I sweat for all the cold drinks I took at long shifts at work. I dance with Mikey and the professor, I buy Honeycut and his guy probably more drinks they can handle, I make that Blake take Theodore to the backroom and put his mouth to better use than talk to me about numbers and I drink, but not too much: I want to be one hundred per cent tomorrow.

Because tomorrow I have a flight to catch.

Tomorrow Cynthia is having her deserved Kinnetik-free weekend trip, because we know how much that women had taken in the last months and only she knows why she still works for me. Tomorrow Deb will be happy that I don’t attend to the family lunch. Tomorrow, Gus' goodnight is coming from The Big Apple.  Tomorrow Mikey is going to call both of us with some bullshit as an excuse to know if we’re doing ok and none of us is going to answer because, honestly, we have better things to do. Tomorrow we’re going to debate about silly things like what to do with the country manor or how to make two physical people have a (I can barely say) long-distance relationship. And serious things like which is the best Tai restaurant in the neighborhood and what to do for our new glass dildo debut.

On Monday I’ll be back in Pitts, after sleeping in some (God help me!) tiny apartment for two days, but tomorrow I’ll be home.

Today I dance.

**Author's Note:**

> So, for years that series finale broke my heart (still does) , not specifically because of Britin, but because of Brian. Last week, a friend finished the series and told me about this headcanon of her. This is my attempt to transcribe what she said.


End file.
